Nightbirds
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: Soon after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix is depressed and yet convinced she is right about Snape. Lord Voldemort pays her a rare visit for unknown reasons and soon the conversation hits deeper that they could have expected. Will she be able to change his mind and, along with that, the course of history and her relationship? -strongly Bellamort with some fluff


_This was written as a birthday gift to my best friend, Ella, full of her favourite couple. Happy birthday, honey, enjoy! :)_

_Fair warning, if you find hardcore Bellamort with a sideorder of fluff repulsive, scandalous or insane, surely you have better things to do that read this huge fic that is only about the previous. Thank you._

Bellatrix had turned her armchair away from the fire to face the broad window that offered a spectacular view of the Scottish forest and the small lochs that interrupted it. The silver moon was reflected on the calm as glass waters and, if she focused more, she could even see the stars twinkling as well. Here or there, large and smaller nightbirds chased each other over the grounds playfully. Or so she thought; they could easily be hunting down each other for food.

Usually Bellatrix preferred a good storm, the malicious rain and the lightning electrifying the air, hitting the ground precisely and fatally, fit her mood and appetite for destruction perfectly. Her lord said that all women liked the rain, but she loved the storm. Only tonight, when the heavens had started raging and heavy drops whipped the window, she had found her head being equally pained. The confusion of the wind reflected her own loss of self and she couldn't deal with that right there, she had to think. Therefore she had taken out her wand and performed the complicated and time-consuming spells that made the sky forget it wanted to cry, so she wouldn't either.

When the storm had begun, a small nightbird, barely of age, had taken refuge in her patio. It had contained itself in the left corner and had puffed up in a fluffy ball to keep warm. Bellatrix, in her luxurious fur blankets and slippers, had failed to notice. But as she finished her spell-casting and the sky cleared up, the smart little bird had chirped. Bellatrix had turned around expecting an Auror perhaps, and she had spotted it. It had a dull grey color with a short beak, not particularly threatening, and Bellatrix was sure its wingspan was less than ten inches. She had been about to scare it away, when it had cocked its head to one side, staring at her with its big round eyes. A knot had been stuck in Bella's throat; this was the exact way her lord would look at her, with his head tilted and his fiery eyes x-raying her soul and mind.

She had stopped the storm specifically so she wouldn't have to think about him and her failures, for it was painful and she had to focus on Snape. She was absolutely positive he was a filthy traitor, but she couldn't find the words to form her reasons correctly, and thus her lord was dismissing her constantly.

The young bird had looked deeply into her eyes and chirped again in thanks. Then it had flown away into the night in search of food. Bellatrix had found herself saddened by its departure for reasons she couldn't understand. She wasn't one to get sentimental over anything, animals in particular. Yet she traced the bird's flight over the lakes and congratulated it for masterfully avoiding the attack of two larger birds. Finally, it was lost in the dark and Bella was left alone with her whirlwind of a mind.

She was supposed to be having a serious conversation with herself about Snape. She feared her lord was wrong and that trusting that bat would bring their demise and she couldn't let that happen, but how was she supposed to express her thoughts when all she had was a hunch? How was she supposed to even think about it, when everything reminded her of him? The paleness of the moon, the calmness of the waters, the wildness of nature, even the posture of a puffed-up, unimpressive nightbird?

Bellatrix had been called crazy more times that she could count by numerous witches and wizards throughout her life for her erratic mood swings, bizarre thought process and "sadistic" tendencies. Those who knew her best, usually pointed out how unhealthy her relationship with the Dark Lord was; it was mad, they said, and obsessive to think all day about a single person. Until then, Bellatrix had considered everyone else insane. How was anyone supposed to_ not _bethinking about the Dark Lord all day when he was as amazing as he was? Only then she was perfectly functional when other tasks were at hand. She could focus her mind and intellect on another subject, even though she'd rather spend her time thinking about him. Now, now that she _had_ to muse about something else, though, she simply couldn't. Her trail of thoughts always brought him in front of her and, for the first time, she wondered if being so absolutely absorbed by a single being who, at the moment, didn't even want to see her was healthy and normal. Even if that being was Lord Voldemort himself.

Oh, she was utterly out of her mind, now she thought she could hear her lord's soft footsteps on the thick carpets of her bedroom.

"Bellatrix," the familiar, clear voice called her name from behind her armchair.

She turned her head unceremoniously, expecting to see no one there. But there he was, towering over her, dressed totally in black, the dark suit hard contrast to his white skin.

"Master!" she gasped.

"Good evening, Bella," Lord Voldemort said, unfazed by her obvious terror. "I knocked, but apparently you were... preoccupied."

"I apologize, master, I heard your footsteps, only I figured it was my imagination. You said you would be absent for a few days, so I-" She stopped abruptly; she didn't want him to think she was checking up on him for some reason. But he seemed to be in a good mood, for he preferred to ignore this possible interpretation and help her out of her confusion.

"Things went rather smoothly," he informed her, "Snape says the boy is on his way to a colossal fail, he almost killed Harry Potter's best friend this time. It will not be long now until he either breaks down or kills someone for good. And then I can take over."

"That is wonderful, my lord," Bellatrix said hoarsely, wondering silently whether she should bring the conversation back to Snape. She didn't want him to leave and the Dark Lord very rarely voluntarily spent time with her lately for any other reason than to discuss some strategy or to have sex. And they would usually disagree in the first case, and be very tired in the second.

The same misery she had been drowning in before he had entered her rooms took over more violently, leaving all of her limbs too heavy to move.

Voldemort pulled another armchair away from the fire, and positioned it so it faced somewhere between Bellatrix and the window. He deposited himself on it elegantly, the carved back of the chair forming a sort of wooden crown over his head.

Bellatrix was whole-heartedly hoping he would pull out a huge book or one of his leather notebooks and quill and would start working. She loved watching him work; he was so focused and methodical, his hand flying on the paper, forming those perfectly slanted letters and his fiery eyes scanning mountains of books knowingly.

Only now, the fiery eyes were focusing solely on her face. She liked calling his eyes "fiery", but the truth was it was not the colour that made her use the adjective. She had seen the natural red eyes of an albino student of Durmstrang during one of those international school meetings -another great idea by Dumbledore- and the kid's stare was just as vacant and stupid as everybody else's. The reason behind her word of choice was literal, she could actually _see_ the fire burning in her lord's eye sockets, the constant supernova explosions of the most massive scale taking place there every time he made another brilliant thought. And this rare astronomical event was staring her right in the eye, piercing her mind and devouring her soul.

"What are you thinking about?" Voldemort asked quietly, apparently oblivious to her musings.

Bellatrix instantly turned as red as his eyes and her heart missed a beat. He must have received some excellent news to be in a mood to talk about her thoughts and not his orgasms. Or perhaps he was aiming on mocking her somehow, only his face was rather relaxed and his hands rested carelessly on the chair's arms; not that she pretended she could tell what he felt, but the years she knew him offered plenty of experience.

"I was thinking you have the most marvelous eyes, my lord," she said, avoiding his fiery gaze.

He let out a delicate laugh, as if her words amused him.

"Sometimes I wonder if you have ever seen yourself in the mirror," he caught her by surprise. Was he actually complimenting her, or was it a reference she didn't get?

"I try to avoid it, master, that is true," she settled with agreeing with him.

He didn't laugh this time, only stared into her eyes.

"How bizarre," he said softly, "you are the only woman I have ever met who considered a compliment on her tremendous beauty an offence and yet you are saddened by the partial loss of your looks."

"Not partial, master," she dared correct him, still addressing her fur-covered lap.

"That is only for me to judge," Voldemort answered steadily. "I know you have been melancholy lately," he continued, always in his soft voice, but Bellatrix could feel his eyes digging daggers all over her body. "I don't pretend to know why."

Bellatrix lowered her head even more. She had been hoping he wouldn't have detected how low her mood had been in the last months, but now she knew it had been a battle long lost.

"Look at me," her lord said even softer, and when Bellatrix insisted on keeping her head down, he laughed again.

"This is strange, too. You were able to look straight into my eyes as a child and now your lap is very interesting all of a sudden. Bella, look at me."

No matter how velvety his voice sounded, this was an order and she dared not ignore it. Swallowing with some difficulty, she met his gaze. It had never failed to take her breath away and this time was no exception.

"Good girl, see how easy it was?" he smirked, and Bellatrix realised too late that now, with their gazes locked, she wouldn't be able to say the simplest lie. There was no need to use Legilimency, she was just incapable of plainly lying to him, and he knew that.

"Now, will you tell me the reason behind your unhappiness?" His words were put as a question just for pretty phrasing, answering 'no' was not an option.

"Master, forgive me, I see no reason you would take interest in my moods, I apologize if it has been a burden to you somehow, I promise I will control them better from now on."

"The reasons behind my question are purely for me to know, Bella," he told her a tad bit frosty, "and I just wish to know what has been upsetting you lately, not reassurance I will never notice it again."

He titled his head to the side with evident curiosity, just like the little nightbird had done. Bellatrix searched his fiery eyes and she spotted a big difference in their depths: usually the constant explosions were ice-cold, and if you looked for kindness or mercy, you were hopeless, all you would find there was cruelty. Now though, she couldn't find that, only intellectual curiosity and something else, less easily definable. His eyes weren't scary anymore.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat and her lips trembled. How was she supposed to put in words the thoughts that had been consuming her for so long, how could she tell him about the bitterness for him not caring about her, when he didn't even- when he didn't even know or care about how she felt for him? If there was one thing she found hard to handle, that was his mocking, and if her targeted her feelings for him with his sharp tongue, she would never be able to be in his presence ever again. He didn't believe in love, and nor did she... but she was also sure that's how it would sound if she tried to explain.

Bellatrix was always very blunt and straight-forward, phrasing things nicely was beyond her capacity. It was even her lord who had written her graduation speech. She was great at magic, not expressing appropriately things that were better left off alone.

A small laugh escaped her lips, verifying her previous theory: she had lost her mind.

"Why are you laughing?" Voldemort asked immediately. He had been waiting patiently for her to talk all this time, his eyes scanning her face with his own expression blank, almost polite.

"Nothing, master," Bellatrix whispered, turning scarlet, "I just recalled how you had written my graduation speech and how awkward it felt talking to so many people."

Voldemort half-smiled.

"It was a very good speech, if I say so myself," he said casually. "So, should I be flattered or offended that you find answering my simple question equal to talking to a thousand people?"

"I don't think you should worry about the views of a silly girl, master."

"A silly girl?" Voldemort repeated, his turbulent eyes taking a deep violet shade. "You know I find nothing attractive in low self-esteem, Bella. Plus, I remember quite clearly how small the remains were of that poor wizard who had called you a 'girl' during the time you actually were one."

Bellatrix couldn't resist and let a small smile illuminate her face.

"That was a good duel..."

"It really was," her master agreed, "you made me very proud that day. Why not give it a try again?"

The smile turned into a pout. One of her master's many admirable qualities was persistence. No matter how hard one tried to distract him, if he wanted something, he would ask and ask again, until you said everything. He had taught her that about interrogation early on. Strangely, that helped her decide to tell the truth, not overly worried about the inevitable consequences. She had observed that change in behaviour in many of her victims and hadn't been able to understand it until that moment. Still, Bellatrix knew her master, she had to be careful phrasing things. She took a deep breath and stated: "you have been fairly busy lately, master."

"That is correct," he nodded in encouragement, as he too sensed she had decided to speak. "So, have you."

"Yes, so have I, it's just that-" Bellatrix struggled to express herself, "sometimes you are gone for extensive periods of time, and I- I-" she shook her head with a little laugh, because she knew how stupid and childish what she was about to say would sound.

"I've missed you, that's all."

Lord Voldemort couldn't possibly let his jaw drop like a fish out of water, yet his lips parted a little and his mouth was slightly open. He composed himself in a second, but it was enough for Bellatrix to see his bewilderment.

"In reality, I have been travelling for only eight days in the last three months. There must be a reason you feel like you haven't seen me as much as -well- as much as you imagined."

Bellatrix searched his face wondering whether he was intentionally making her speak the words herself or if he was actually thinking she was referring to his physical presence. All she found though, was genuine surprise.

"I was also talking about the degree of contact," she muttered.

Bellatrix had never seen her lord blush, but the pink colouring his hollow cheeks was unmistakable.

"I never thought I would say this, but are you really saying you are sad, because you do not receive the amount of _intimacy_ you-"

"Master!" Bellatrix said in a panic, turning bright crimson as she realised how he had misunderstood her words, "I meant conversation, that we don't talk that much anymore, not that I'm unsatisfied by your- performance."

If Voldemort had been taken by surprise a minute ago, he had been hit by lightning now. The pupils opened so much, that his eyes looked human, instead of feline. He tried to talk a couple of times, but didn't find words either.

Her master's shock and loss of words were for Bellatrix more traumatic than she could have imagined. She paled and hid her face in her palms in utter embarrassment.

"Master, I'm sorry- I'm so sorry," she sobbed for the first time in her life, "I don't know what I'm talk about. I- I was alone for so long in that- that place and I- I started making things up about everything - everything and you, and they kept me alive, but the Dementors- they made me lose my mind and I- I must have believed- it's just all in my head, master, and it's driving me crazy thinking how we used to be and now- it's so- so _confusing_- That bloody _ring_ in not helping at all!"

She took off her finger a platinum ring with a heavy black diamond on it and threw it on the floor.

"I don't even know how I got that! Books and stars and that tiny apartment with the couch and, Slytherin, how messed up my mind is- it's just mad-"

"I remember that too."

Bellatrix paused her desperate monologue and removed her shaky hands from her eyes. Her lord had leaned towards her and there was something like... understanding in the fiery eyes.

He had also stretched his hand so that it found her cold, wet cheek. In contrast to his demeanor, his body had always been very warm and soft. Without even noticing, Bellatrix pushed her face onto his hand, his long fingers tracing the wetness from her eyes.

"I remember that night, too, " he said in an impossibly soft voice. "It was your seventeenth and you had come to that book closet I would call my house back then, we spent some time on that couch and then I turned the ceiling into the nightsky for you. I offered you a ring with the most precious of gems on it. I told you to take it, only if-"

"Only if I agreed to be your Princess one day," Bellatrix finished in awe and, when he nodded in confirmation, she continued sobbing even harder onto his palm.

"Shush, now, don't cry," he told her, sadness evident in his tone, "you aren't the only one who went back on their promise. You cannot control your mind. I- My own memories from before a year ago have been rather foggy, as well," Voldemort confessed.

Bellatrix took a shaky, wet breath and stopped crying, her eyes opening wide at his words.

"They have?" she whispered.

"Yes," Voldemort said quietly, "it has been a long, hard time."

"Yes, master, very hard..."

Voldemort nodded. "See? No need to cry. Try to compose yourself," he offered her a handkerchief he conjured out of thin air.

She took it and tried to muffle her sobs with it, until there were none. Discreetely she stuffed his nadkerchief in her cuff.

"So," she began, when her voice was trustworthy again, "is everything I think I remember real?"

"How am I supposed to know what you think you remember, silly?" Voldemort laughed.

"Well, how about the stories you told me when I was little? I remember you coming to the castle and bringing me riddles and telling me stories about making jungle tribes do your bidding after you ordered the anaconda they released against you to devour the chief's lieutenants. Is it true?"

"Are you asking if I told you that story or whether it is true? Actually, it matters not, the answer to both is yes."

"And you told me that after you let me sit on your lap?"

He laughed a little more.

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"Did you show me all the astronomical maps the night my father was murdered?"

"I figured you would like to take your mind off things..."

"Then you told me to always be strong and true to my name and that greatness means having the guts to stand up again after you have fallen and not to be afraid to fall? You Apparated me to my house, said I would be a gorgeous woman and powerful witch one day, kissed my forehead and left for almost ten years?"

"Seven and a half, indeed," he said with a frown and then added with a pout, "and before you say it, the first thing you did when I came back was to slap me, yes. I have been trying very hard to forget that, thank you for reminding me."

Bellatrix eyed him angrily.

"You were gone for so long, I thought you were dead. And then you came back all tanned and with a blonde hanging from your arm. You didn't write to me back once! I thought the tribes had sent a zombie to hunt you down or something, it's not funny!"

Voldemort instantly stopped laughing. "She was a redhead actually, and I cannot recall a single time in my life tanning. More like getting sunburns all over."

"I should have slapped you all over," she muttered and then turned crimson by her rudeness. He didn't seem very offended though.

"I never said I didn't deserve it, did I? Not the all over part, just that slap, I mean."

"So it happened? Merlin, and I thought my imagination was overly active... Did you decide to personally teach and train me after that?"

"No, I had decided to do that when you were around two. I just thought the death of your father could make you reluctant to accept another older male in your life soon, so I left for some time. My cheek knows now this was not the best idea I have ever had. But granted, we started acute training right after you apologized and promised to never do it again. Which meant you coming to my house in London every weekend and sometimes just 'passing by' during the week."

Bellatrix smiled broadly.

"Yes, even the week my year took that trip to Europe."

"You have no right to complain, I repaid you with a three-month tour of the wildest Asia you could ever imagine."

Bellatrix cast him a challenging look.

"Did I actually convince you to take a week off in the end? Because I remember going to Mauritius and you shirtless, in a swimming suit muttering something about never taking a day off in your life."

"Yes, I never told you at the time, but I had never swam in anything deeper than the pool of the Prefects' Bathroom at school either."

Bellatrix smiled even broader.

"That's oddly sweet," she muttered and then her smiled vanished. " I think that... stuff happened on that leather couch of yours. Is my memory... intact?"

"Your memory is the only thing that came out of it intact."

"And your house at the time was so small, it had books hanging from the ceiling and no windows?"

"It still does," he verified her words.

"The morning- the morning my sister left and mother disinherited her, you just grabbed my hand and Apparated me to Paris for a couple of days, didn't you?"

"Oui, madame, La Ville Lumière," Voldemort said in a perfect French accent and cupped her cheek again, "how could anyone be sad in Paris?"

Bellatrix swallowed hard to compose herself.

"And there was also that thing with the ring and the Princess..."

"There was that too... No, no, don't start crying again. Here, how about we continue the conversation as we get ready for bed?"

The tears glistening in her eyes fell on a broad grin.

"I can spend the night with you?"

"Well, I say your memory is pristine, so you must remember I really enjoy making your hair."

Bellatrix flashed him the biggest smile ever and sped to the bathroom, forgetting the door open in her excitement. When she came back in a nightgown, Voldemort had already changed into what he usually wore to sleep: white flax shirt and pants. He was also sitting on her bedcovers. He patted the area in front of him softly and she hopped on the bed like her sisters would do as a child. She felt her lord's long thin fingers caressing the soft silk of her hair and neck, and her hair stood up; they hadn't done this in a long time, almost fifteen years.

"Shhh, it's okay," he whispered in her ear, "I will not hurt you."

"I know," she answered bravely.

Soon, his fingers had loosened all the ties that the house-elf had made in the morning to keep her hair in its elaborate knot, and a blanket made of liquid ebony fell on the bed. She heard him mutter: "see, I told you only parts of your looks are gone", but her mind was focusing on something else entirely. She hadn't had the courage to ask him face to face and maybe timing now was even worse, as her neck was exposed and she couldn't see him move, but she'd rather risk getting her neck snapped, than seeing the anger and betrayal in his eyes.

"Is it true your real name is Tom Riddle?"

The brush stopped moving and, for a second, she was sure it was all over, at best he was going to kick her off the bed, crucio her until she begged him to die at worst. Instead, after a while he continued smoothening out her hair.

"Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle, yes. But I abandoned it, when I killed my father at sixteen." His tone was frosty, but he didn't tell her to drop it either.

"That _is_ a long time ago, it explains why it took you some time to answer," she said smartly, to give a lighter tone to the conversation again.

"How old do you think I am, exactly?" he asked, indeed forgetting to be upset.

"Ehmm..." Bellatrix realised she had never really thought about that, "a hundred? No? Maybe... err I don't know, please don't break my neck," she added in a hurry when he started laughing harder than ever.

"I am exactly seventy years old, Bella, seven zero, the end. How did you even come up with three digits? Your father and I were classmates. I have exactly double your own age, at the moment," he said, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, master," she muttered, turning crimson, "I just figured- you are always so knowing and- classic- I mean, timeless, I was only joking, your age is irrelevant..."

"At least you know what to say to redeem yourself," Voldemort patted her cheek slightly harder than he should, and yet far from painful. "Turn back around, now, or you will ruin my masterpiece."

Bellatrix cooperated instantly and she started talking soon in a softer, more serious tone.

"It was a shame you had to change it," she mused, "the symbolism is very unique, it suits you perfectly. You're mysterious, full of riddles to crack, most people would think you had made it up, too. Until half an hour ago I was sure especially this piece of information was just my nickname for you when I was a child, because that is exactly how I viewed you. And you also brought me puzzles every time you visited. Perfect fit..."

"Don't move your shoulders," Voldemort instructed, as he maneuvered delicate ribbons around precious locks. "I never thought about it that way," he added skeptically, "I just had to get away from all the filth of that place, my dear."

"I know," she said simply. She recalled asking many questions when she had first taken his shirt off and had seen the deep scars on his back, chest and arms. She had easily deducted they had been made by whips and sticks many years ago, as the pale skin had stretched and grown them. Once in a while, late at night, he would tell her stories about the orphanage and how the other children tormented him. Her favourite stories, of course, was how he would get them back for what they had done, but she knew not to push him too far, his tone was already strained.

They lapsed back into silence, listening to the song of the forest's nightbirds. Oddly, the next to break the peace was Voldemort.

"I think we have shared enough memories, how about something new?"

"New? Like what?"

"Well, I do not believe I have told you, my dear, that you are the first and only woman I ever slept with- as in, literally, let you spend the night in my bed, while I was asleep."

Bellatrix remained silent for a while.

"Bella?"

"I- I kind of already knew, my lord. I mean, not about being the first one, but it was obvious how difficult you found relaxing with someone else there. You keep my hands locked, so I can't move without you noticing, you even forget my bonds sometimes. You always let me fall asleep first and are up with the slightest disturbance. It must be very annoying to wake up every time I stir or have to use the bathroom, and yet you cannot go back to sleep until you have immobilized me again. As if I could ever hurt you..."

Voldemort's fingers had stopped working, as he was listening to her words carefully.

"Why didn't you ever tell me it bothers you?"

"Because it doesn't, master," Bella shrugged. "I like sleeping close to you, especially after Azkaban, it gives me some security. If the price I have to pay to enjoy that, is to be paralyzed while doing it, I'm fine with that."

Voldemort smiled and went back to giving the final touches to her hair.

"You are the first person who feels safe around me, as well, then."

Bellatrix racked her brains for a sufficient explanation before giving up.

"I don't know why I feel this way. But things that scare me are usually rather silly, like ghastly dolls with dead eyes and frozen porcelain smiles."

"Dolls?" he cocked an eyebrow. "When you were five, you mean?"

"Yes... well, I still wouldn't be very pleased if you chose one to decorate the room with, my lord."

"Any more mature fears? How about a giant teddy bear?" he teased her.

"If you are my teddy bear and are planning on dying, sure."

Voldemort stopped working again. "So your two big fears are porcelain dolls looking at you and me dying?"

"Not with that order, master," Bellatrix shook her head shyly.

"My biggest fear as a child was getting locked up in a workhouse for the psychiatrically impaired, so excuse me if I cannot be very understanding with your fear of dolls. But are you not afraid of hurting yourself?"

"Why would I be? It would be an honour to give my life for you, master, dying in battle is my death of choice," she said as if she was explaining something obvious. "When you say 'psychiatric'..."

"I mean the loony bin," he cut her off. "You are also ready to go. You can turn around."

Bellatrix moved on the bed to face him. "It looks spectacular. You look spectacular," Voldemort commented.

"It's like my hair is a crown."

"I thought you would like to start practicing on that princess tiara," he smirked.

Bellatrix woke up late at night. She had curled herself up with her head resting somewhere on her lord's abdomen, so that it left his upper body naked and exposed to the chilly night. He didn't seem to mind, he was sleeping peacefully with his facial muscles much more relaxed that she ever saw him when he was awake. The absence of masks made him look almost like someone else, someone... human.

Free of his bonds and control for the first night, she pulled herself up silently, and he remained oblivious and sound asleep as her deep blue eyes stared hungrily at him. She had to wake him up and she found that immensely difficult, when a soft chirp distracted her. The same grey little nightbird from a few nights ago had come to say hi. Who knew, perhaps it had visited her the previous nights too and she had been asleep like her master. She smiled at it and it chirped one more time before it spread its wings, flapped them as if it was waving at her and finally flew away.

And as the young nightbird searched deeper and deeper into the darkness, Bellatrix knew exactly how to form her concerns and, hopefully, her lord would be able to understand and listen to her.

Taking one last mental picture of his sleeping face, she caressed his cheeks. The fiery eyes opened instantly and his expression was composed, stony and unreadable, in under a second.

"Bella, what is it? Are you all right?"

"We need to talk, my lord."

"We have mainly been talking the last days, my dear," he stated the obvious. "One night I leave you alone so I won't have to wake up, and you do it yourself?" He shook his head. "I will get you a Mudblood tomorrow, but until then, come back to bed."

"No, master, you need to listen to me right now," Bellatrix said imperatively. "It's about Snape."

Voldemort opened his mouth to complain, but she put her index on his lips.

"Just let me finish for once and, if you are not convinced, I will never say a single word more. But if you really want me to be stand next to you, you should know, I deserve a chance to speak. Please."

They locked gazes and Voldemort nodded slowly.

"Only one."

"Snape has been in love with Lily Evans since we were all Hogwarts students," Bellatrix confidently. "He begged you to spare her life when you revealed your plan to hunt her son down and when you agreed, he did not believe you. He ran to Dumbledore as well, for double protection and that's how the Potters found out they were all marked for death. Dumbledore made him betray you officially, it was only natural, he was given a unique chance and Snape had always been easily influenced. And when he did not get what he wanted, Lily Potter, Dumbledore cleverly manipulated him by claiming that the boy, Harry, is his sole link to her and her sacrifice. Snape has devoted his life to the boy's protection, that's why he became a teacher and Dumbledore was so agreeable with having an alleged Death Eater in his school; he knew he had complete control over him.

Master, please, listen to me, there is not a chance he would ever agree to see the boy dead, he would never bare see the boys' eyes dead, because they are his mother's."

Bellatrix finished her speech breathless, her eyes wide open to catch the slightest indication that her words were not in vein. Voldemort remained still as well, and looked deeply into her eyes. Then he suddenly averted her gaze, sat up, fished his shirt from the feet of the bed, put it on and twirled his wand in the air, making some hovering candles appear around them.

"Continue," he simply said.

They spent the rest of the night sitting on the bed, comparing ideas on whether Snape should be used to feed false information to the Order or be killed bright and early in the morning, when the right time to challenge Dumbledore in a duel would be and how public it should be made.

The sun had risen already and lays of sunshine were finding their way between the bed curtains, giving the impression the bed was a tiny sea cave. Bellatrix smiled tiredly in relief and was about to hop down the bed and take a long bath, when a steel grip changed her plans. Her lord was now semi-lying on the bed, supporting himself on his right elbow and was offering her his right hand. His fist was closed.

"Are you sure you are not missing anything?" he asked mischievously. He opened his palm and there, resting on his white hand, was Bellatrix' beloved ring with the black diamond. She had searched around the area she had thrown it, but had come up empty, so she had figured he had reached it before her. She hadn't dared ask it back; what if he simply answered "no"... And now he was offering it back to her.

"My Princess?"  
>"Your Queen."<p>

_A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think._

_La La, the brush, that's all I' saying. ;)_


End file.
